Not Every Race Day is Yours
When it all goes wrong, the emotions come out.
The 4am alarm goes off. You peel yourself out of bed, careful not to awaken your girlfriend and slink downstairs to make breakfast.
It’s race day, and today is the biggest gravel race in Europe, which just happens to take place in your adopted hometown of Girona.
A copious amount of carbs are consumed, and I tiptoe around the house being careful not to make a sound.
For me, it’s one of the biggest events of the year, for my housemates it’s just another day.
It’s just before 6am when my girlfriend, Maggie, walks downstairs. I’m three-quarters of the way through a can of Red Bull.
I’m buzzing. She’s bleary-eyed.
We quietly open the apartment door and step outside. It’s still dark in Girona. The only people on the streets are those making their way home after a heavy night of drinking. It’s peaceful, quiet.
I’m wearing a full white kit, the shorts shining like a light under the early morning dusk. Maggie rides next to me for the mere seven hundred metre roll to the start line.
It’s eerily quiet at the race start. The amateurs are an hour later and yet to arrive. There’s just a growing number of pros huddling around sipping coffee.
The pre-race nerves, the trash-talking banter with friends and competitors. It all starts to get that bit more real.
Traka isn’t a good race for me on paper, but I’m ready to race as hard as I can.
The sun rises at some point. I make my way into the enclosure, Maggie looks on from the other side.
The countdown begins. The start line is, ironically, lonely. Just you, and your thoughts of the impending pain.
Seconds tick down. It’s showtime.
Left - right - rock - car - speed bump - crash. It’s 6:52am, we’re in the neutral zone, but it’s already every man for himself.
Eight minutes later, we turn right onto the climb, which will dictate who makes the front group. Brake screech, there’s a shout as one rider is chopped by another.
Then, silence.
The soundtrack is heavy breathing, intertwined with the clunk of gear changes and the occasional grunted curse.
At this moment, everyone’s solo training and prep come together.
I’m in reverse. My engine is primed, the power is good, but an emergency light comes on my dashboard.
Fuck.
I cough. I hack. Double fuck.
A dry heave comes. Then, my can of Red Bull appears in front of me.
This weird asthma-allergy internal bomb that derailed my previous race in the US has reappeared.
I keep pushing. I keep puking, like a cat with a hairball.
Anger. Frustration. Disappointment. Helplessness.
All of the emotions come out.
I convince myself to limp on. Then, I take a turn off the course and roll home. The tears never come, but they're behind my eyes.
I walk in the same apartment door I left two-and-a-half hours before. Maggie is getting ready to do her training ride. Riley is still in his pyjamas.
I’m emotionally crippled, they’re having a normal day.
I head upstairs to shower. My white shorts lie on the floor, slightly stained with mud and puke. The race is still going on not too far away, but I’m physically and mentally done.
We meet friends for lunch. It’s a normal day in the rest of the town.
It’s weirdly humbling. Nobody cares, do they?
I force myself to return to the start/finish line. I rehearse my story of what happened.
My friends ask, my athlete managers ask, my competitors ask. I’m met with the same smile and consoling words.
“You’ll be back, we know you will get healthy. We trust you.” - or, words to that effect.
Some people were ill. Hundreds crashed. Some punctured. Some had good legs, others bad.
Mine is just one story in thousands of riders.
Some days are good, some days are bad. I’ll visit the doctor, probably get a stronger inhaler, and then prep will begin for the next one. You’ve got to be a little stupid and a lot optimistic as an athlete.
Tomorrow will be a better day. Not every race day is yours.
While you’re here…
I’ve added a paid subscription and a ‘Buy Me A Coffee’ link to this post. As the year progresses, I’m planning on building this blog and putting out articles which I’ve always wanted to write but, for whatever reason, haven’t wanted to pitch. Your contributions allow me to do that.
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/joelaverick
The following brands are racing partners of mine which allow me to do cool stuff.